I'll Get a Candle
by ChrisCalledMeSweetie
Summary: All of Sherlock's holier-than-thou, I'm-not-going-to-eat-anything-even-though-you've-slaved-over-a-hot-stove-for-me, it's-all-just-transport posturing has gone on long enough. Tonight, Angelo is going to give Sherlock his just desserts.


**Warning:** _I - ChrisCalledMeSweetie - did not write this story. Moriarty hacked into my account and posted it without my consent, and I can't figure out how to delete it. I recommend that you hit your back button now, before you read any further. It's too late for me - I can't un-see what I've already seen - but you still have a chance to avoid being scarred for life by the explicit nature of this filthy fic. Save yourselves._

...

Sherlock Holmes is a slut. Everyone knows it. Even Angelo, who hasn't the brains of a hamster, knows it. Sherlock is a slut, and all his holier-than-thou, I'm-not-going-to-eat-anything-even-though-you've-slaved-over-a-hot-stove-for-me, it's-all-just-transport posturing has gone on long enough. Tonight, Angelo is going to give Sherlock his just desserts.

Sherlock is tied, spread-eagled, to a table in the back of the kitchen in Angelo's restaurant. How did he get there? I don't care - use your imagination. The important thing is that he's completely naked, and completely helpless, and there's no one around to hear him scream. Except for Angelo, who's going to be causing the screaming. And me - Jim Moriarty - who's going to be getting off on it.

"I'll get a candle," Angelo says jovially. "More romantic that way."

Angelo lights the candle, and then holds it over Sherlock's chest, tipping it to allow the hot wax to drip down onto his left nipple. Sherlock gasps. Angelo allows a few more drops to fall, and then squeezes the cooling wax into a stiff peak.

"A matching set, I think," Angelo says, moving to Sherlock's right nipple. This time, he doesn't hold the candle as high, giving the wax less time to cool on it's way down. Sherlock lets out a hiss of pain.

Angelo smiles at him. "I see you like that," he says, with a knowing look at Sherlock's swelling cock. He fishes around in a drawer and comes up with an adjustable cooking ring. Stroking Sherlock to full hardness, he clamps the stainless steel ring around the base of his cock.

"Now, let's see what else is in this drawer," Angelo says, rummaging around and bringing out a spatula and a garlic press. "I wonder which you'll prefer."

Sherlock's eyes are wide, but he says nothing.

"No preference?" Angelo asks. "Well, then, I'll try them both."

He smacks the spatula down over Sherlock's left nipple, flattening out the wax. He gives the right nipple the same treatment. Sherlock tenses as Angelo moves down his body, trying to pull his legs together. He can't, of course.

Angelo flicks the spatula lightly against his balls. I would have hit him much harder, but then Angelo has always had a soft spot for Sherlock. Not to worry, though. He's just getting started.

"More?" he asks.

Sherlock shakes his head. I'm not sure what he thinks he's going to accomplish by refusing to speak. We'll be hearing his voice soon enough, though.

"Alright," Angelo says, laying down the spatula. He picks up the garlic press. "What shall I squeeze?"

Angelo has barely put any pressure on Sherlock's balls before he's shouting "No!"

Hmph! That Angelo needs to grow a pair. He leaves Sherlock's balls uncrushed. I can't be too disappointed in him, though, because in the next moment he's turned the garlic press around backwards, so that the self-cleaning nubs are facing the holes, and he's compressing the head of Sherlock's cock in a most satisfying manner.

Sherlock gives a wordless cry, and Angelo releases the pressure, leaving behind a beautiful pattern of circles. I'm hoping he'll give those balls another shot, but he puts the garlic press down.

"I think it's time I finally get some food into you," Angelo tells Sherlock with a wink.

He picks up a carrot and a bottle of olive oil. I think I know where this is going, and I'll bet Sherlock does, too, because his cock twitches in anticipation. Angelo coats the carrot with oil and slides it into Sherlock's arse. It's a good-sized carrot, but the tapered shape allows Angelo to push it in fairly easily. After a few thrusts, he removes it and sets it aside.

Next, he picks up a courgette. It's an absurdly large one, far bigger than a cock. Even mine. Or any dildo I've ever tried.

Sherlock's expression is comical. I wish you could see it, but you'll just have to take my word for it. He knows where Angelo plans to stick that courgette, and he doesn't think there's any way it could fit.

Angelo takes out a knife, and for a moment I think I'm going to get to watch some blood play, but instead he uses it to carve the courgette, giving it a more tapered end, curved upwards. I suppose that's better for prostate stimulation, and the notches he cuts out near the stem will make it easier to extract, but honestly, I would have been glad to see him just ram the whole thing in.

Oh well. Even whittled down, and coated with olive oil, the courgette is still pretty formidable. It takes Angelo several minutes to work it fully inside Sherlock's arse. He wiggles it around a bit, and you can tell when it hits Sherlock's prostate, because his cock twitches and he groans.

That makeshift cock-ring is looking pretty damn tight. Sherlock couldn't possibly get any harder, and he's starting to turn a bit purple. Red wax, orange carrot, green courgette, purple cock - taste the rainbow…

Angelo goes back to his cutting board. This time, he peels and juliennes a piece of fresh ginger, paring it into a long, thin skewer. He rinses it in cold water. Then he grasps Sherlock's cock and begins working the ginger into his slit.

Sherlock cries out, but this time Angelo ignores him. He twists the ginger, pushing steadily, corkscrewing it down into Sherlock's cock. Sherlock thrashes against his bonds, but he's held fast, and Angelo grips his cock firmly with one large hand, while the other inexorably inserts the ginger.

Sherlock is whimpering, now. Sweat breaks out over his whole body, and I can imagine how that ginger must feel, stretching and burning him from the inside. I promised, once, to burn the heart out of him, but I think this might actually be more fun.

Now Angelo grasps the stem of the courgette and begins rocking it rhythmically, giving Sherlock's prostate a ruthless massage. At the same time, he uses his other hand, slick with olive oil, to jerk Sherlock off. He can't come, of course - stuffed full of ginger, and with that tight ring at the base of his cock - but he needs to so badly that he's trembling with it.

It's not long before he's begging. The sound is music to my ears, and if I were the one doing this I'd keep going until he lost consciousness, but Angelo has a disappointingly merciful streak.

First he removes the ginger, and Sherlock's eyes flood with tears of relief. Then he releases the cock ring. A few more thrusts of the courgette, a few more tight strokes, and finally I get to hear those screams I've been waiting for, as Sherlock's body spasms into a shattering climax.

Now that's what I call a happy ending.


End file.
